


Pack Instinct

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur didn’t know why finding his spirit animal was important, but Merlin insisted and Arthur rarely got his way these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Kinkspiration Round 1: Bestiality. ](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/605252.html)
> 
> Thank you to [](http://snegurochka-lee.livejournal.com/profile)[**snegurochka_lee**](http://snegurochka-lee.livejournal.com/) for the very helpful beta (twice over), and [](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile)[**novemberlite**](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/) for advice/cheerleading.
> 
> Originally Posted: Oct 18, 2012

Merlin dug through his pack, pulling out books and jars, lining them up on a large, flat rock in the centre of the clearing. Arthur unsaddled the horses, then finally broke the uncomfortable silence they’d endured since leaving Camelot.

“But you don’t even know what I will turn into,” he said. “I could hurt you.”

“Arthur, this is done by my magic.” Merlin shot him a disparaging look and grabbed a large jar, twisted it open and began shaking the white powder into a circle around Arthur. “Whatever you turn into, I can turn you back at any moment.”

“But...”

“No. You need this. That castle is driving you mad. All the council meetings and audiences. The banquets and searches for the perfect bride.”

Arthur’s face must have morphed into a fierce scowl because Merlin was pointing to Arthur’s eyes and saying, “See! You need this.”

It was the same argument they’d had over breakfast. Then it had come to a stalemate with Merlin’s _If you don’t trust my magic, you shouldn’t have me as court sorcerer_.

“Just a good hunt, that’s all I need,” Arthur said, determined this time not to let his concerns be ignored. “I feel better already having come here.” Out in the woods with just Merlin, he was himself again. The weight of the crown had lifted and the aching stress that pinched between his shoulder blades had finally released. They never got this anymore, not he and Merlin alone like this. Since Merlin had been made court sorcerer there were times Arthur went days without even a glimpse of Merlin. He gave a wistful sigh, remembering the simplicity of his manservant being at his side at all times, without question.

“Please, Arthur.” Merlin placed the now empty jar back on the rock and turned his full attention to convincing Arthur. “This will do more. The spell is to release you of your human restraint and let your true nature roam free for a short period. The magic will choose the animal that suits what your spirit needs. Then you will be free, truly free, even for a short period. It is intensely rejuvenating.”

Arthur tilted his head, surprised by the passion in Merlin’s declaration. “You’ve done it.”

“On occasion,” Merlin said, looking up at the sky with a small, dreamy smile. “It’s not always safe to do to yourself.”

“So what were you, then?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “That’s personal!”

“Well, you are going to see what I’m going to be.” Feigning disinterest, Arthur bent and rubbed the grainy powder between his fingers.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but whispered, “A bird.”

Arthur laughed, completely delighted with the idea. “Merlin, the dainty little bird.”

“Shut up. I was a falcon.”

“I’m sure you were lovely.”

“I was a deadly predator.”

“Yes, and all the mice in the valley trembled.”

“Prat,” Merlin huffed. “Now strip off and stop touching the salt. It purifies the area around you in preparation for the spell.”

There was a satisfied grin on Merlin’s face as though he thought Arthur couldn’t win an argument in the nude. Which was completely false, and Merlin had dressed and undressed Arthur enough times as his manservant to know that. Arthur stripped quickly, then stood with his hands on his hips and careful to remain in the circle as he waited for Merlin, whose nose was now buried in a book.

The season had just begun its journey from summer into autumn. The sun beat down, warm on his chest; the wind was just cool enough to raise goosebumps on his bare arse. He cleared his throat.

“Oh.” Merlin’s glaze fluttered over Arthur’s body, his cheeks brightening with colour. “Right. Um. Ready then?”

Arthur raised both eyebrows. “Obviously.”

Merlin approached and spoke in a quiet, peaceful tone, words that Arthur couldn’t decipher. He walked the perimeter of the salted ground, hand raised high. The air began to stir, swirling with the power of the spell. Arthur’s skin prickled, then lit like fire. He cried out as his bones grew and twisted. It was painful, but fleeting -- like a drop of candle wax, the pain disappearing the moment it arrives, leaving only the memory behind.

Arthur tumbled to the ground, clawing at the earth as his body and mind morphed. His whimpers turned to howls as he finally collapsed, giving into the darkness.

*

The wolf blinked, disoriented, his snout pressed into the earth. The grass was dew-wet, and he lapped at it to quench his raw throat. Refreshed, he stretched, loving the pull of his powerful muscles. It felt new. Different. He darted over a fallen tree to test his legs. The leap felt like flying, wind dancing over his thick fur for a half-dozen heartbeats then the solid feel of dirt beneath his paws. He took off into the forest at a race. Trees whipped by in his peripheral vision, his ears filled with every sound of the forest -- birds and rabbits, a young faun to left, the thundering of his own heart.

He’d lost all track of time, when suddenly he turned, drawn back to the clearing. Sitting on the fallen log he’d first jumped over was a man. His scent was not of the forest. He didn’t belong. The air about the man held the heady tang of spice, of power. The wolf’s hackles rose with the need to dominate. He stalked closer; the man’s eyes were steady on his, unafraid.

As soon as he was close enough, the wolf shifted his weight to his hind legs and pounced with strength and speed he’d never known before. The man’s body hit the ground behind the fallen tree, and his lungs gave up a satisfying puff of air as the wolf’s paws landed on his chest. There was fear now, mixed with power, filling the air and making the wolf’s blood sing.

Beneath him, the man -- so frail for all that he _felt_ strong -- writhed beneath his claws. The wolf leaned forward, increasing his weight on the bony shoulders until the man winced.

The man was talking, strange sounds, but all the wolf understood was the panic that tinted every word no matter how softly spoken. It curled down his spine, a delicious trickle of heat that pooled in his groin the more the man struggled beneath him. He bared his teeth and growled a warning. The man stilled, submitted. With the thrill of triumph racing in his blood, he pressed his muzzle to the man’s neck, behind his ear where the sent was strongest.

It was familiar, and a warmth beyond instinct passed through him. Awareness flared like the spark of a flint. The man was talking again. A gentle whisper. One word.

“Arthur.”

The wolf raised his head and stared into the blue eyes of the man beneath him. He tilted his head and felt his ears twitch at the word.

“Arthur.”

The man was calm, his deep breaths playing upon the wolf’s fur.

“Arthur,” he whispered again and the wolf understood, whined in reply to his name. Slowly, the man -- Merlin, he remembered now -- raised his hand and gingerly stroked Arthur’s mane. Arthur leaned into the touch, nuzzling Merlin’s neck. Merlin was pack. His.

It felt like home and welcome, and as Merlin’s fingers dug more deeply into his fur, whispering, “Your beautiful like this,” it felt like desire, like longing and want. The scent around them changed.

The wolf’s instinct took over, triggered by the recognition of arousal. The sliver of humanity still inside Arthur raced to catch up but the wolf had already scrambled off Merlin and had his muzzled pressed to Merlin’s groin, breathing in everything it said that had been hidden between them before now. Merlin was more than just pack.

The wolf was too wild, too overcome with the base need to claim its mate. Arthur had lost any control as he licked at Merlin’s crotch and whimpered at the muted taste of cloth. He tried to catch the band of Merlin’s breeches in his teeth without causing damage.

“Arthur, fuck.” Merlin pushed him out of the way with a shove. “Let me.” Merlin’s nimble human hands quickly worked the laces and shoved the breeches and smalls until they were pulled tight around his thighs.

The smell of arousal filled the air, no longer muffled by the barrier of clothing. The wolf howled, frantic. He rolled Merlin with a hard knock to his side and pinned him, paw pressed to his shoulder blades.

Merlin looked back, struggled to his hands and knees. His eyes wide in a mix of panic and arousal, he waved a hand and his eyes glowed. When Arthur thrust forward, the hole was warm, wet and slick. Tight.

He thrust again.

Merlin cried out, falling to his elbows. His head bowed, showing the wolf the vulnerable skin of his nape. The wolf panted, rutting deeper as Merlin’s body accepted the intrusion.

Merlin grunted, breathless. Arthur could see his fingers digging into the earth. The grass tore away as Merlin scrambled, grasping and cursing. His face was pressed to the ground now, turned to the side so Arthur could still see half his face, his one eye pinched tight with each thrust.

Arthur held him down, clawing Merlin’s back for purchase as the angle changed. The cloth beneath his paws was in tatters, blood soaked. His hips rutted in a feral rhythm, driven on by the heat and the blood and the gentle whimpers of submission that came from beneath him.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was raw, barely audible. He said it again, and then again, gasping it in counterpoint to each thrust. Arthur tumbled over the edge, his control lost entirely to the carnal need that overwhelmed him..

Merlin remained still, limp and pliant until the wolf spilled his seed with a final deep thrust.

Arthur shivered, and allowed himself to be pushed off even as every instinct told him to hold firm and ensure his seed remained inside his mate. But Merlin was strong and insistent.

He hissed as Arthur slid free.

The world blurred into gold and light -- a flash of pain like his fur set ablaze. And the next instant the sounds and colours of the forest muted to a dull whisper of what they had been. He breathed deeply, filling his human lungs, disappointed at the smell of grass and wet leaves and so little of Merlin.

_Merlin._

He snapped his head up. Merlin was sitting up, his breeches still at his thighs as he gingerly looked over his shoulder at his back. The tunic was beyond repair and the skin beneath was torn like rags. Shame churned in Arthur’s gut at the sight. He looked down at his fingers, covered in Merlin’s blood, and bile rose in his throat.

“I --” Arthur choked, remembering. “I _hurt_ you.”

“It’s alright. Look.” Merlin pressed his eyes shut tight and whispered a spell. He was left with stripes of new skin, pink and tender, but healed. Arthur looked at Merlin’s too bright smile and felt white-hot anger flush his skin.

“And that makes it all right?” Arthur snapped. “What I did? I r-- “ He couldn’t say the word. “How I... used you?”

“No. Arthur.” Merlin crawled over to him, cupping Arthur’s cheek in his hand until their eyes met. “I let you.”

“What?”

Merlin ducked, lips pressed tight as though with regret. “I could’ve stopped you. I never imagined--” He looked at Arthur with wide, pleading eyes, his voice was desperate, a quick tumble of words.“But I thought you needed that. I thought that it was happening because _we_ needed that.”

Arthur struggled to understand. Merlin picked at the dirt under his nails and Arthur’s groin stirred at the memory of those long fingers ripping at the earth as Arthur thrust mercilessly into him. It had felt amazing. _Freeing_. Merlin’s words filtered through his addled thoughts.

“Could you have stopped me? Truly?” Arthur said, shivering in the autumn breeze in nothing but his bare skin. He missed the comfort of fur, the simplicity of instinct: want, take.

Merlin nodded. “At any time.” He shifted, pulling up his grass-stained breeches. “Maybe I should have, for your sake. I thought you were _willing_ as well. I was … caught up in the moment.” He buried his head in his hands.

Arthur sat silent for a long time, letting his mind process Merlin’s words. He was still naked, and the grass was cold beneath him but he didn’t dare move. His eyes fell to Merlin, who was turned away, giving Arthur the space and time he needed. His back was rigid, though, prepared for the expected harsh words. The thought made Arthur’s heart ache. He reached up and trailed a finger along Merlin’s back. The lines of newly healed skin would scar, mark Merlin forever as Arthur’s. A shudder of pleasure ran down Arthur’s spine.

Merlin turned back to look at him and Arthur offered him a tentative smile.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I -- I was willing, as well. Beneath the wolf, that was me.” Arthur cleared his throat, cocked his head to the side to hide the burning of his cheeks. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. Maybe not quite so... violently.” Arthur frowned.

Merlin snorted. “I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

“Oh.” Arthur’s breath caught, suddenly catching Merlin’s meaning and the evidence of it it drying white stains on the hem of Merlin’s tunic. The concept that Merlin hadn’t just consented but... had enjoyed the act, liked that wolf cock piercing him, liked being ravaged. Merlin wanted Arthur like that, feral and driven by instinct, taking. _Fuck_. Arthur’s cock twitched against his thigh. His fingers closed around Merlin’s forearm, pulling him roughly into Arthur’s lap and tugging Merlin’s hair until their mouths crashed together. It was hardly a romantic first kiss; Merlin hissed as Arthur sucked and nipped his bottom lip. Arthur laved it with his tongue and tasted blood.

Merlin pulled away, gasping. His lips were swollen and red, his cheeks pink and eyes comically wide. “That was nice,” he panted.

“Eloquent as always,” Arthur teased, letting relief and anticipation wash over him. He kissed Merlin again, nothing but a tender brush of lips, testing. Merlin moaned and heat began to build in Arthur’s groin at the sound. He kissed again -- Merlin’s chin, his cheeks, his neck, with tickling, barely there touches.

Merlin hummed in approval. “That’s nice, too.”

Arthur laughed and rolled onto his back, enjoying the cool grass on his naked skin. Merlin shuffled next to him, his ruined tunic tossed over towards his pack. Once they returned to the castle, Arthur wasn’t giving this up.

He inhaled deeply, trying to slow down the day, recapture a bit of that freedom. “Can we do this again?”

Merlin lifted his head, his eyes flickering over Arthur’s face. “Yes. Someday. If you’d like.”

“Good.”

In the distance there was the sound of animals skittering in the underbrush and the rushing water of the stream beyond the clearing. Beside him, there was the beating of Merlin’s heart. Arthur closed his eyes and listened.


End file.
